System failure, p.2
System Failure, page 2
Salome shook her head firmly. “He’s been safely locked up in San Quentin since Morocco,” she assured Eva. “He might get away with a lot of things and have incredible government contacts, but even he can’t get away with murder. And it was you that put him in jail, Eva, when you filmed him shooting the helicopter pilot. Be proud—and believe in your parents! I think it’s worth the risk, don’t you?”
Gazing into Salome’s shining eyes, Eva felt her hopes rising. Slowly, she nodded. “Yes. Yes, all right, Salome. I’ll dare to believe it—for now.” She managed a smile.
“And we can all rest easy for a while,” added Salome. “Lykos can’t scheme with any more of his minions from a cell in San Quentin—and he can hardly come after us himself. For once we can concentrate on our studies in peace, yes?”
“Well . . .” Eva took her phone back and studied the email. “I do have this, and that might get in the way of Ms. Reiffelt’s hacking classes for a while . . .”
“Oh, yes!” Salome released Eva and clapped her hands in delight. “Mikael’s going to want us to start planning a little field trip to Brazil. And even I won’t miss Howard McAuliffe’s coding lectures!”
It was Mikael’s first welcome address for a full term—he had taken over as principal after the events in the Sahara midway through the summer term—and the student body seemed determined to give him a resounding official endorsement. As he strode onto the platform, his ashy-blond hair swept back neatly and his gray-blue eyes gleaming with amusement, the noise from the packed atrium was deafening: screams of approval, roars of delight, stamping, clapping, and whooping.
He might as well be their god, thought John Laine bitterly. Their tin-pot little techie idol. They couldn’t be any more obsequious.
“I feel sorry for Irma Reiffelt,” he muttered to Slack. “She had all the experience, and she knew this school inside out. Why should she have to step aside to make way for my dad?”
“Ms. Reiffelt did the honorable thing,” Salome reminded him softly. “Roy Lykos was operating right under her nose, running all his schemes from this school.”
“And she made way for Mikael voluntarily,” added Slack. “It’s not like she was fired.”
“It’s still wrong,” growled John. “Dad and Roy started all this, my dad with his stupid experiments and Lykos with his evil plans. I still don’t think Irma Reiffelt should have to pay for their mistakes.”
“His stupid experiments saved all our lives,” Akane reminded him. “We’d all be dead if he hadn’t invented the AI transfusion and figured out how to combine it with our DNA.”
“Sure, he wasn’t acting selfishly at all,” said John sarcastically. He glared up at his father, who was now flapping his arms ineffectually and laughing as he tried to calm the cheering students.
“I think it’s kind of funny how they all adore your dad,” insisted Slack. “And it’s one in the eye for Roy Lykos. Talk about a fallen hero.”
“Well, exactly,” said John, still sulking. “They worshipped Lykos too—remember? And look what he did.”
“Oh, don’t take it so seriously, John.” Slack nudged him hard with his elbow. “It’s kind of nice for your dad to get some recognition. We don’t have to join in, and neither do you.”
John sat back and folded his arms, scowling. The students were quiet now and eager to hear what Mikael had to say, and then Mikael himself started talking. He covered all the usual inspirational start-of-term stuff about effort and excellence. John shut out the familiar voice, determined not to listen to a word.
He still resented the way his mother had welcomed Mikael back with open arms and barely a question asked. Tina had been so overjoyed to know her husband was alive after all that she had barely quizzed him about what he’d been up to. I know your father better than anyone, John, she’d told him sternly. And if he says he was forced to disappear, I believe him. He must have had good reasons. He loves us, and I know he did what was best for all of us.
Ugh. John shuddered with disgust at the memory. He’d always thought his mom was a feminist.
“And I’m especially keen for the girls here to show me what you can do,” Mikael was emphasizing. “Don’t let yourselves be talked over in class—I know the boys can be a bit full of themselves”—hearty student laughter—“but some of our most promising students this year are female. Computers may have been largely a man’s world until recently, but we at the Wolf’s Den aim to change that!”
John let the roar of the applause wash over him and kept his arms tightly folded. He tuned out his father’s voice again.
Slack’s made me watch enough stupid rom-coms, he thought. Isn’t it always the smart woman who figures out the bad guy? It’s the starry-eyed son who never sees anything wrong with his father! But not when it comes to my mother, oh no . . .
“It’s not as if he’s changed,” he growled to Slack. “He’s the same workaholic he always was. No time for his family even though he made himself dead to us for years. All he thinks about is the Centers and getting them back to what he wanted them to be. An elite group of tech schools or, in other words, a vehicle for his ambitions instead of Lykos’s! I might as well still be lost in the Sahara for all he cares. I don’t think he even knows I’m mad at him.”
Slack gave him a piercing, sidelong gaze. “Maybe he doesn’t want to notice,” he murmured. “You’ve been pretty surly around him. It’s not like you encourage any father-son interaction.”
“Not my job,” grunted John.
Slack gave an emphatic sigh and turned back to Mikael, who was well into his stride now.
“I have several exciting new projects to announce,” grinned Mikael, brandishing a thin sheaf of paper. “These were the ideas that came out of our summer project competition—thank you to all who entered, and congratulations to the winning suggestions. Adam Kruz and Leo Pallikaris, please stand up!”
John couldn’t help but let out a short gasp. His stomach felt cold. Adam and Leo? Roy Lykos’s pet mini-henchmen? And Dad knows that! What’s he thinking? As the two boys rose to their feet, they looked even more smug and supercilious than usual, and that was saying something.
“Adam and Leo—you and your team came up with a terrific concept, and we want to take it forward.” Mikael smiled and spread his hands to encompass the entire hall. “This team wants to bring AI to animals. Not real ones—before you all get PETA on the phone—but robotic animals that exactly resemble their natural counterparts.” Nodding happily, he waited for the cries of excitement to die down. “Now, I know that some of the younger classes had suggested a school team of huskies for the winter months. Not very practical, I’m afraid—not for real dogs. But over the summer, this project group has created a prototype pack of robo-huskies that are a whole lot more appropriate to Little Diomede.” Mikael took a deep breath and swept his hand toward the ramps that circled the atrium.
“Ladies, gentlemen—I present: the K9 Krew!”
Overcome with curiosity, John couldn’t help but stare as the robots appeared, vague and blurred by the Perspex below them. As the six “dogs” stalked downward and became fully visible, he sucked in an astonished breath.
The whole atrium was gaping in fascination. John had expected at least the click of metal feet, but the robots’ paws padded along in silence. They certainly were prototypes—nobody would want to pet those black steel limbs or the doglike metal heads—but they moved exactly like huskies, legs smooth and natural. The leader turned its head toward the students; sharp ears pricked and swiveled, and its eyes glowed red. To John there was a sinister sense of actual, sentient life in its emotionless stare.
“How in the world did Adam and Leo . . .” breathed Slack, but his voice dried. He shook his head. “Those are the coolest things ever.”
“We’ll be improving the prototype as part of the project,” explained Mikael. “Who knows—we might even manage a fur pelt by the end of term, and then our dogs might seem friendlier!” The students laughed. “So if anyone here has ever had a yearning to work with animals, sign up on the online forms for Project Husky!”
“That’ll be me!” yelped Slack, leaping from his seat with his arm raised.
Mikael grinned. “Like I said, register on the intranet site after this assembly, Slack. But I know for a fact you’d enjoy this one. Why don’t you join Leo and Adam and their team right now? We’re going to have our first ‘husky safari’ on the plateau, and any interested students are welcome to participate.”
John stared in disbelief as, without a backward glance, Slack rushed off toward the gathering group of excited students at the edge of the atrium. Gee. Thanks, pal.
Arms were shooting up all over the crowd. Mikael nodded indulgently at a younger student.
“Would this process be applicable to other kinds of animals?” The girl’s eyes shone.
“Sure! Why not? If someone builds the animal robots, we can develop the appropriate AI.” Mikael grinned. “Bring on the robot hamsters!”
There were squeals of excited laughter from the tenth graders. But Mikael grew solemn again, shuffling his papers.
“Hamsters, and who knows what after that. . . . I’m sure you all have many questions and comments, and I’d expect nothing less from Wolf’s Den students.” Mikael’s eyes caught John’s, and he smiled. “Right now, though, I want to move on to the second prizewinning project. I hope you won’t think I’m indulging in any nepotism when I say this team was led by John Laine!”
Uproarious applause ensued. John rolled his eyes. Of course they wouldn’t think Mikael was biased. Apparently, he could do no wrong in their eyes.
“John, why don’t you join me on the platform to help me explain the MindReader?”
John froze for a moment. He didn’t like the spotlight anyway. But at that moment, fierce resentment was warring inside him with delight that his project had been chosen. Gripping the sides of his chair, he made himself stay in place.
“It’s an excellent project,” enthused Mikael, staring slightly perplexed at his son. “And I’m not just saying that as a proud dad, because every member of the team contributed. The MindReader team has proposed a groundbreaking form of communication: ‘voluntary telepathy.’” He held out his hand, palm upward, and heads craned to see. “You won’t be able to make it out, but this is a chip that can be placed behind the ear.” Mikael gestured at the screen behind him. “You can see the original basic blueprint here. The chip picks up vibrations in the brain to imitate a conversation without the need for either an external device or a spoken voice. The device works worldwide and is being issued this term by students at all the Centers.”
“Oohs” and “aahs” erupted from the wide-eyed student body. Mikael nodded modestly. John gritted his teeth. Yeah, look modest. It may be based on the tech you used on me, but it was me who did all the work over the summer.
“John!” His father’s enthusiastic voice interrupted his resentful thoughts. “John, come on up here and take a bow!”
John locked eyes with his father. There was something pleading in Mikael’s expression. John got to his feet.
“John?” Mikael looked relieved. “That’s it, come and get some appreciation for all your hard work!”
Slowly, John shook his head. Turning on his heel, he shoved his way past Salome and Akane. Then he pushed through the silent, astonished students and stormed out of the atrium.
The corridor was deserted; that wasn’t surprising, thought John sourly, since everybody was in the atrium worshipping at the feet of Mikael Laine. That was fine by him; he didn’t want to see anyone. The students in this Center were supposed to be so smart, yet all of them—Slack too!—went soft in the head for a charismatic leader. No wonder Roy Lykos got such a firm hold of everybody. They’ll all believe anything.
No, that wasn’t fair. His dad could be a selfish jerk, but he was no Roy Lykos. John took a deep breath and tried to repress his churning anger. He glanced to the side as he passed the broad entrance to the staff corridor.
There was someone standing outside Mikael’s office. Although those supercomfortable, bubble-shaped white pods were available, she hadn’t chosen to sit in one; she was propped idly against the opaque glass wall, the fringe of her black bobbed hair falling over her eyes as she peered at her tablet.
“Sarah? I mean, Ms. Lopez?” John perked up. Despite his mood, he didn’t want to look sulky in front of the young reporter, who had gotten her first big break through the Ghost Network and was now a rising star in online journalism. Apart from wanting to look professional, he was well aware he had a hopeless crush on her. Sarah Lopez glanced toward him, her frown clearing.
“You know Sarah is fine, John,” she grinned. Lazily she blew the fringe out of her black-rimmed eyes. “How’s it going with you?”
“Great,” lied John. “Exciting start of a new term and all that. What are you doing here?”
“Waiting to interview your dad.” She shrugged and grinned again. “Been waiting awhile. He’s a busy man, your father.”
John gritted his teeth in a bland smile. “He sure is. What’s the interview for?”
“Man of the Year in the Alaska Star,” she told him. “Next up: Time magazine, if he keeps going on this trajectory. His connection with Roy Lykos—the AI research, going into hiding, but especially nearly being murdered by Roy—is turning a regular business story into a sensation.”
John couldn’t control himself any longer. “Man of the Year,” he almost spat. “For machines maybe. His family, less so.”
He didn’t pause to absorb the astonishment on Sarah’s face. Turning around quickly, he strode as rapidly as he could toward the stairwell.
Sarah didn’t call after him, and he didn’t blame her. He must look like your standard surly teenager, John thought, and he could even imagine her rolling her eyes. But right now, he didn’t care. Taking the stairs two at a time, he swept the chip embedded in his palm across the reader and pushed through into the blustery open air.
The bright freshness was always a little startling after the climate-controlled school, and John sucked in a huge lungful of it. Quite suddenly, he was certain: he’d had enough. He’d had enough of the Wolf’s Den and its suffocating elitism. Anger hot in his throat, he strode across the plateau, hands in his pockets; he was barely able to catch a glimpse of the expansive ocean.
Nobody else ever seemed to come here. Well, maybe Eva sometimes; like him, she seemed to enjoy reminding herself that there was life beyond the Wolf’s Den. And there’s life outside the Ghost Network too, he reminded himself angrily. Sure, he and his friends might have done some good as part of Mikael’s team of AI-enhanced superteens. But he couldn’t help constantly feeling as if he were being used. By his own dad!
The fact that he saved his life should be taken into account with the other data—
“Oh, shut up, IIDA!” he barked aloud. He was in no mood to listen to the Ghosts’ supercomputer “mother” inside the Center.
Even if it might just be his own conscience talking . . .
“I said shut up!” Deliberately, he clicked off the voice in his head.
It had been so good to spend time at home over the summer, being a normal son and brother in a normal family, with all its squabbles and all the “boring” day-to-day life. After a few days of that, he’d realized just how much he missed it. If he let himself mope too much, he would begin to see that he didn’t want to be here at the Wolf’s Den anymore . . .
“John? Where are you going?”
He started. He hadn’t even heard Akane’s approach. She stared at him in bemusement, her choppy red hair tangled by the wind.
“Were you heading for the harbor?”
He glanced down at the steep slope in front of him. Far below, the little port of Diomede City nestled in its bay. “I guess I was. I’ve had enough of this place, Akane.”
“Had enough of what?” She snorted. “The finest education a hacker could ask for? A luxury educational Center with the best teachers in the world? Don’t be so dumb!”
“I hate it here! And I think I hate my dad even more.”
“No, you don’t.” Akane’s face set hard, and she folded her arms. “You’re just feeling sorry for yourself, and you’re mad at your dad. You’ll get over it. I know you, John.”
“You hardly know me at all! We met like a year ago!” Even as he said it, John felt a twist of guilt. It wasn’t really true.
“And a long time before that online. You were telling me all your inner thoughts and feelings before you were ten! So don’t pull that line with me, John Laine!”
They glared at each other for a long, angry moment.
“Then you know I can’t take any more of this,” he blurted at last. “I’ve had it with Dad, with the Wolf’s Den, the Ghost Network—everything! I’m gonna find a boat.”
He shoved past her, but she was far too agile to lose her balance. She simply twisted with him, and before he knew what was happening, her slender arm was around his neck, wrenching him down into a headlock. He wriggled in indignation, but her grip was firm.
“I hate you, Akane!” he gurgled furiously.
“Nah, you don’t.” Letting him go, she slapped him affectionately on the shoulder. “And you know as well as I do you’re not going anywhere.”
“Don’t know your own strength,” he growled, rubbing his throat as he got shakily to his feet.
“I didn’t hurt you one bit,” she said airily. “Except your pride, of course, but that’s always been kinda sensitive. Come on, I’ll walk you back to the Center.”
